


Cosplay, and the Art of Being Ravished

by BullySquadess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, also kinnda, roleplay???, the best birthday gift of all, the closest to marichat ive ever come to writing before, this is kinnda borderline crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien is just trying to get laid. Surprise, I have other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosplay, and the Art of Being Ravished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Sophie! You are an absolute treasure who deserves all the crack fiction in the world!  
> (as always, thanks to mirth for making this readable)

Over the years, Marinette had grown accustomed to cats sneaking into her room at night.

…But that did not at all stop her from jumping out of her skin whenever one showed up past dark.

“Plagg!” Marinette gasped, fingers white-knuckled around the knitting needle she’d nearly used to impale the kwami out of knee-jerk instinct. The hat she’d been working on fell half-finished onto the chaise beside her, ignored in favor of the black cat flailing in the pile of loose yarn in her lap. “How in the world did you even get here?”

At the sound of her other half’s name, Tikki roused from where she’d been lounging on the desk, floating over to untangle the intruder from his woollen prison. Plagg hissed as he batted at the orange yarn, nodding a curt thanks when at last he slipped loose.

“Adrien’s up on the balcony and I’m supposed to get lost,” he sighed, pressing one paw against his temple. His green eyes were haunted, as if a thousand years of living were all catching up to him at once. “It’s some sort of weird sex thing as far as I can tell.”

Marinette’s brows shot up, intrigued, and she exchanged a look with Tikki. “Weird sex thing?”

“Geez, I’m too old for this. Yeah, he bought this horrible—“

“Plagg, you move your tail or you get nothing!” came a muffled yell from the direction of her balcony. Marinette bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Thanks for the heads up,” she said, waving as Plagg dragged Tikki towards the hatch of her floor. The kwami were accustomed to making themselves scarce when their humans decided to visit, wanting no part in whatever Marinette and Adrien got up to when they were alone. Really, it was a blessing for everyone involved. “Tikki, make sure he eats.”

“I always do,” Tikki said, casting her chosen a wry look as Plagg all but pleaded with her to let them escape. “Have fun, be safe!”

“Yes, mom.” Watching the kwamis phase through the floor (probably straight towards the fridge if she knew them as well as she thought), Marinette turned her head to call up towards her balcony. “The coast is clear. You can come down now.”

“No, go back to doing whatever you were doing before!”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Adrien… what are you up to?” she asked, getting to her feet and approaching the stairs to her loft.

“Something great, I promise! Please just ignore me!”

Well, since he asked so nicely…

Marinette sighed, but indulged him, settling back on the chaise to resume her hat. In the four months since she’d discovered Adrien Agreste’s identity as Chat Noir (and in the three and a half since they’d officially started dating), she’d grown used to the boy’s antics, so the unusual request was nothing to bat an eye at.

It was almost funny now, thinking back to the way her middle school self had viewed her classmate as some godlike being of poise and charm. The gold-plated pedestal she’d built for him had cracked the second Adrien let slip the first lame cat pun, crumbled when their first date ended with him serenading her with what he’d called their “superhero theme song”, and finally blown away on the breeze when their mutual loss of virginity was followed with a breathless “pound it”.

What would fourteen-year-old Marinette have said, had she known eighteen-year-old Marinette kicked a naked, grinning Adrien Agreste from her bed?

Probably nothing. Just a series of gurgles, really. Or inhuman noises.

And speaking of inhuman noises…

Her skylight creaked and rattled as Adrien tried to open it, reminding Marinette exactly why she’d begun locking it in the first place.

(Both cats and boyfriends tended to be gluttons for attention, but it was impossible to grasp the full meaning of the word “clingy” until you had a boyfriend whose alter ego was a cat.)

“Hold up, I think it’s locked,” Marinette sighed, heaving herself up the loft. She fiddled with the skylight latch, releasing it with a click, and was about to flip the pane up when—

“Nope!” Adrien’s muffled voice interjected. “No. Back down. Gotta wait a few more minutes now.”

“Adrien—“

“Go!”

Marinette knew any protests on her part would only prolong the experience — it was obvious he was dead set on whatever harebrained scheme he’d planned for her tonight. So she rolled her eyes as she plodded back down to her chaise for a second time to resume stitching her next row of purls.

True to his word, a few minutes passed before she heard Adrien retry the lock. Not wanting to spoil his surprise, Marinette kept her gaze dutifully focused on her needles as he descended to the main floor, knitting away until she sensed him planting himself in front of her.

“Good evening, beautiful.”

Marinette smiled at the familiar voice, butterflies rushing through her abdomen in response to its honey-sweet tone. Binding off her current row, she glanced up to find—

 Not Adrien.

“Oh my god,” Marinette wheezed, almost falling over at the sight. She tossed her project aside, pushing up from her lounge to examine his getup. “Where did you even get that?!”

Standing before her in a startlingly accurate rendition of his alter ego’s costume, Adrien grinned his most feline grin. The edges of his mask didn’t quite reach his lash line, his eyes still had their human whites, and the tail that dipped from his waist lay dead on the floor, but other than that Marinette couldn’t help but be impressed with the design. She of all people knew exactly what her partner’s costume was meant to look like, and damn if this replica didn’t do it justice.

 _‘Though I would have gone with a poly four-way stretch performance fabric,’_ the seamstress in her couldn’t help but muse, experienced fingers picking at the faux leather that made up the suit.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adrien-as-Chat cut in, plucking her hand away from where it was tracing the seam at his armpit and cradling it between both of his. “But you must be wondering why I, Paris’ most renowned hero—“

“This craftsmanship is excellent, though I don’t fully agree with the fabric choice.” Marinette’s eyes widened, free hand dashing up to tap at the studs that pinned his cuffs. “And are those real metal fixtures?!”

Adrien’s lips twisted, a low grumble escaping as his girlfriend continued to coo over the details of his costume. Finally getting fed up, he snatched both her hands and brought them up to his face, dropping a flurry of light kisses across the tops of her fingers.

“You _must_ be wondering,” he repeated, recovering his earlier swagger, “why I, Paris’ most renowned superhero, have slipped into your bedroom in the dead of night.”

Marinette cocked a brow, holding in a snort. “It’s like… eight PM.”

Green eyes blinked twice. Black-clad shoulders drooped.

“Listen,” Adrien sighed, dropping his flirtatious pretenses and glaring down at her with that trademark pout. “I have a whole big script planned out, so you’ve really gotta stop breaking character.”

“And just what character is that?” Marinette asked, intrigued.

“The civilian girl ravished by Chat Noir under the cover of nightfall,” Adrien answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ah… so it is some weird sex thing.”

“Yes. Now if you’d please get all of your burning questions out of the way, I’d like to get back to it.”

Marinette grinned, equal parts excitement and mischief bubbling up in her stomach. “All right, first off: How much did you pay for a replica suit just to get it on with your own girlfriend?”

“400 euro. And it will be worth every one if you just play along.”

“That’s fair,” she conceded, nodding over the well-made ensemble. “Second question. This girl I’m playing, is she like the sweet ‘damsel in distress’ or the sultry ‘showing her appreciation for her hero’ type? I need to know my angle.”

Adrien tilted his head, as if the thought that her character needed to be something more than “female with vagina” had never crossed his mind. Typical.

“Surprise me,” he answered. “Either one is pretty hot.”

Marinette almost giggled at the ridiculousness of it all, but managed not to buckle when she asked last, “Do I have to call you Chat Noir the entire time?”

At the question, her boyfriend grinned — that Cheshire expression she’d thought he was incapable of making without Plagg’s help.

“What else would you call me?”

And with that, Adrien turned on his tail (literally, the strap squeaked under his boot) and clambered back up to her loft.

“Oh for—“ Marinette scoffed, watching as he lifted himself out of her skylight. “Do you really have to go back up there?”

“You threw off my entrance!” came the reply, muffled by the closed window. “Just let me have this!”

Too tickled to fight, Marinette allowed him his theatrics, sitting back on her chaise and patiently waiting until he made his re-entry.

As any dutiful partner should, she pulled her best shocked expression when at last he dropped back into her room. “Chat Noir?!”

“Good evening, my pretty little civilian.” Adrien bounded over, pulling her to her feet and dipping into a low bow in the same fluid movement.

_‘Charmer.’_

(Marinette made a mental note to keep her boyfriend away from any more historical romance films, lest he try and fit a house-drawn carriage in her room.)

“What are—“

 _‘Oops.'_ Remembering he had a line for this, she snapped her mouth shut and motioned for him to continue. Adrien — or should she say, Chat Noir — smiled, a quick expression drenched with gratitude, and rolled into a second bow, this time pressing his lips to her knuckles.

“You must be wondering,” he purred against her hand, “why I, Paris’ most renowned superhero, have slipped into your bedroom in the dead of night.”

“I’m not in trouble… am I?” Marinette fluttered her lashes ostentatiously, really laying it on with a breathy damsel voice.

If he caught her sarcasm, he didn’t react.

“No, no,” Chat assured her, straightening up and taking a step closer. His lips quirked, eyes peering down with glittering mischief. “...Unless you wanted to be in trouble, that is.”

His gloved hands dropped to her waist, slotting comfortably around the slimmest part. His fingers, she noticed with relief, lacked claws. Probably for the best, considering this particular suit was for activities far less violent than akuma fighting.

“If you aren’t here to punish me…”

Marinette nibbled the edge of her lip, a gesture that was guaranteed to never go unnoticed by her boyfriend.

“…then what brings you to my bedroom, Chat Noir?”

Sure enough, she watched his eyes dart to her mouth, and was pleased to feel the hands on her waist tighten their hold just a smidge. “Fate itself,” he whispered, entranced.

God, it was becoming nearly impossible not to snort.

“Oh? And what is fate telling you to do with me?”

“It says that you and I are destined to make sweet love, so unbelievably passionate that the very gods would sit in awe.”

_‘Wow, why don’t you try being a bit more melodramatic there? I think there’s still a few dead poets out there that haven’t rolled in their graves.’_

“But I don’t understand,” Marinette simpered, putting all of her available willpower towards the task of _not_ bursting out into grunting laughter. “Why would you choose me — an unwed mother forced to work the factory line to provide for my dear Cossette — out of all the girls in Paris?”

Chat’s eyelid twitched, the first unscripted reaction she’d gotten from him, and the tick was damning. Marinette held her doe-eyed expression with strenuous determination, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from cracking a grin.

“Because,” he ground out, obviously attempting to remain in-character despite her ridiculous response, “you are the most beautiful girl in all of Paris, and I’ve heard tales of your bedroom allure.”

“Oh, so I’m a slut now?”

His eyes narrowed in warning, and Marinette was close to losing it.

“Was Phyrne a slut?” Chat avowed grandly, really pouring on the bravado as he gestured though the air. “Was Theodora?”

“Ye—“

“No! They were renowned for their beauty and womanly wiles — just as you are, my lovely civilian.”

Marinette grinned at his theatrics, her hands coming up to rest against those familiar shoulders. Overplayed as it was, she had to admit the fantasy was beginning to work on her. What could she say? She was attracted to her boyfriend! Especially when he’d put so much money, time, and energy into something he’d obviously imagined numerous times before.

It was time to take mercy.

“Please, call me Marinette,” she said, throwing him a bone.

“Marinette,” Chat exhaled, relief flooding both his voice and expression. “If you would have me, it would be my sincerest pleasure to show you the single greatest night of passion anyone has ever experienced.” He tilted his head, then nodded. “Ever.”

“Oh?” Marinette asked, unable to help herself as she let her fingers walk up the expanse of his chest. The bell on the costume did ring, she discovered. “But what about Ladybug? Does your heart not belong to her?”

Chat gulped, staring down at her with a look that clearly said he was at a moral impasse. She waited, curious to see what kind of response he would cook up.

“Well, yes, of course it does,” he began slowly, gears turning inside his skull. “My Lady is the most divine, selfless creature to walk this earth.”

_‘Oh, no. Not this again.’_

He was about to go on another lovestruck tangent. She could tell.

“She’s by far the most beautiful, altruistic, stunning, smart…”

“Chat,” Marinette prompted, knowing if she didn’t intervene there would be no sex things happening at all tonight, weird or otherwise. She’d had more than one orgasm derailed by her boyfriend’s overly sentimental musings, and she wasn’t about to let it happen again.

“…eyes that shine like the deepest pools of…”

“Chat Noooiiirrr.”

His vision had glazed over. His mouth had settled in a dopey grin.

This was not good.

“…I just love you so so much. I love your smile and the way you hold me—”

“ _Adrien,_ ” Marinette hissed, snapping her fingers in front of his nose and making him jump. Slowly, he blinked away the clouds that had settled over his eyes, seeming to remember the situation at hand.

(The situation he had so adamantly put them in.)

“B-but that doesn’t matter because tonight I belong to you!” Chat/Adrien chirped, scrambling to reset the scene as his arms looped around her waist and swept her into a graceful dip. “So what do you say…”

He paused, taking a deep breath and peering down at her with an expression that was clearly meant to be alluring. “…My beautiful, breathtaking civilian?”

Unable to help herself, Marinette popped up, pressing a quick but scorching kiss to the hero’s lips. When they parted, she saw a palpable excitement flood his features, similar to the crackle of electric anticipation she felt gathering in her abdomen.

Cheesy or not, tonight was bound to be fun.

“Ravish me, Chat Noir.”

And with a toothy, feline grin… he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this blue-balling by omission? I tried to write the sex scene but it ended up being RIDICULOUS.


End file.
